


in the corner of your eye (i saw a star bursting to life)

by renvember



Series: on my chest, on my heart [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dave | Technoblade-centric, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Piglin Technoblade, but recovery!!, pleased to announce that we found the family :), this is just more dadza with his weird new pig son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28012404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renvember/pseuds/renvember
Summary: After a while, Phil sits back, frowning. The sun’s about set, and he’s only made it through a portion of his things, and he already seemed exhausted from whatever he got up to during the day.“This isn't working,” he says, frustrated. “Fuck.”Techno leans back, trying his best to stay out of reach.Phil groans then turns to him. “Can you come with me when I go out tomorrow? I need to keep an eye on you.”(Or, Techno’s recovering and staying with Phil in the meantime, neither of them really prepared for cohabitation.)
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: on my chest, on my heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051724
Comments: 38
Kudos: 658





	in the corner of your eye (i saw a star bursting to life)

**Author's Note:**

> okay. so this is becoming a small series because me and the homies (love you evie) had Ideas. this can be read? without the context of ssb? but i wouldn’t recommend it. it's about the same vibes of this, so if you enjoy phil & techno, there’s a short prequel!!
> 
> title is from soft universe by aurora :>

Phil left early that morning. It's not a surprise, he's usually long gone by the time the sun is at its brightest, when the glare is too strong to stay asleep. 

Techno has been slowly regaining his ability to walk. He can manage a slow shuffle now without the weight of the wall to brace himself on. 

He pulls down the cloth over every window, not too vain to admit he practically stalks around the house in the darkness. There’s no looming fog either, so it’s easy enough to readjust. He’s lived off his own scraps for long enough to be able to sort through someone else's. He pulls out every drawer he can find, rifling through the loose ends inside. He’s hungry and he imagines there must be food _somewhere_.

He shoves away anything that isn’t interesting to be kept around, a tactic he picked up from scouring fortresses. But there isn’t a golden carrot in sight, certainly nothing less. Not much he can identify either, between dried remnants of plants and vague materials of all sorts. 

He leans most of his weight against the wall as he circles around the room, hunched over the open drawers to stay upright. He eventually finds something more curious: a bound, leathery thing tying sheets of thin cuts of paper together. He flips through it, frowning at the tight scribbles packed in every inch of space. Nothing he can parse, certainly. He drops it into his accumulating pile of junk.

He finally finds something under the heavy bags Phil keeps by the door: last night’s supper, a starchy vegetable of some kind. His sense of smell is still absolutely shot by the explosion, but it looks appetizing enough though, so, mentally shrugging, he takes an experimental bite while tensing for the worst.

One bite is enough to begin to soothe the gnawing hunger in his stomach, which is more than enough incentive to tear into it. When he’s done, he reaches into the bag for another, making his way through a sizable portion of what’s left before coming back to himself. 

He hangs it back up in silence, when suddenly the door pushes open, the gentle click of the lock scaring him back. With nothing to hold, he stumbles over and crashes to the ground, screwing his eyes shut as the light of the outdoors pours into the dark house.

“Techno..?” Phil says, quickly shutting the door and kneeling. “Hey, hey– are you okay?”

He's picking up the language fast, trying to bridge the gap best he can through listening and body language. He understands… _generally_ , what Phil tries to say. He still misses the particulars. Really, everything they try is a long game of charades.

Techno’s gotten good enough to read the brief tirade of emotions that go through his face. He settles on one after a lengthy moment, blinking his eyes and looking wholly _concerned_ as he kneels down to his level.

He gestures Techno forward, and he wearily obliges, letting Phil feel his forehead again. He pulls back. “Better?”

Techno huffs, not sure what he means.

“More good,” Phil says as way of explanation. 

At that, he nods. Things have definitely improved. 

Phil looks satisfied, pulling back to stand up again. He blanches at the state of the house, frowning minutely before turning back to Techno. “Did you..?”

Techno nods again, trying to shrink further back under his skin. He wasn’t thinking enough when he went through everything. 

“Ohhh. Okay. Wow. Time to clean, I guess,” he sets his pack by the other bags, glancing down at the noticeably emptier one. “Oh, and you ate?”

“Mhm,” he hums quietly.

“Great,” He says. Techno recognizes that word. Similar to good. It’s a good thing he ate. Phil nods to him. “Watch, okay? You don’t need to go through all my stuff like this. I can show you where everything is.”

Then he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work. Techno isn’t sure quite what’s going on as Phil runs him through all the chest, naming every object in an unfamiliar tongue and dropping them back in place. All the words make his head spin, though, and he has to stop paying attention before he gives himself a headache. 

After a while, Phil sits back, frowning. The sun’s about set, and he’s only made it through a portion of his things, and he already seemed exhausted from whatever he got up to during the day.

“This isn't working,” he says, frustrated. “Fuck.”

Techno leans back, trying his best to stay out of reach. 

Phil groans then turns to him. “Can you come with me when I go out tomorrow? I need to keep an eye on you.”

Techno huffs, tilting his head in confusion. Phil rubs his eyes and tries again. “I have to go…” He frowns, probably looking for the right word and coming up blank. He pulls his pickaxe from its hook on the wall, mimes a man walking down with his hand. “Down. Mining. You’ll come?”

He nods slowly. He knows he won’t be of much use there, though. 

Phil lets out a huff of relief. “Okay. Yeah, I’m… tired,” he blinks down at Techno, realizing his lack of recognition and rephrases. “Sleepy. Want to sleep.”

Techno nods again, feeling somewhat guilty he impeded that earlier. Phil nods back with a tired half-smile, dropping his hat to hang on the door and leaving the door to his bedroom ajar as he practically collapses over his cot. Techno blinks slowly, watching noiselessly as his breathing evens out.

He curses quietly to himself. Well. Shit. Now he feels more awake than ever again.

He prowls past the doorway and back to the main room, between the massive pile of stuff and his own little bed. The door outside looms in the darkness, its dark form silhouetted by shafts of light from outside.

He moves quietly, pushing it open as slow as he can to poke his head outside. 

He hasn’t been out often. At all, really. Not since the first day and not much other exposure besides peeking his squinted eyes through the windows.

This world wears darkness well. 

They’re in a field, one he can’t describe as anything but _rolling_ , the plants on the ground swept up by the wind and entirely unlike the static fungal growths he’s used to. The trees line the edges of the clearing, dark and many but not menacing in any regard. It’s… peaceful.

He closes the door behind him, looking down as his hoof knocks into something. A menagerie of little flowers are potted at his feet, things he doesn’t recognize but all colorful. He pushes one aside to clear a space for himself to step around to the edge of the porch. And he’s glad he does when he’s able to finally look _up_.

He understands the difference between ‘sky’ and ‘ceiling’ now, something Phil had trouble explaining. He thought it was something much, much more subtle than it is. 

A glowing white crescent shines down on him, surrounded by dozens of sharp pinpricks of light blinking in the darkness. He’s so taken aback, he stands there dumbly for long enough to realize it’s _moving_ too, easing slowly across the sky.

He can’t bring himself to look back down for a long time after that, dropping to sit on the edge of the platform, let his legs dangle in the air, and watch the sky turn until sleep comes to collect its bounty. 

. . .

Phil’s up early, as usual, bustling around rearranging the drawers. He looks over as Techno blinks groggily awake with a loud yawn.

“Hey, come eat. I want to get an early start,” he calls over his shoulder. 

It takes a moment for him to really wake up, but when he does it’s to the distinct smell of fire. He shoots upward, tripping over the blankets as he tries to zero in on Phil, who just waves. 

“Cooking,” he explains, tossing something in black metal. “It’s safe. Though… you’ve probably done it before. Here it’s more than just warming something up.”

He gets up timidly, pleased to find he can toddle across the room easier today. He rests his head on the edge of the counter, a generous space between him and the flames. He can feel the warmth vying for his burns, but he keeps his head down and ignores the sensation. 

Phil smiles at him, turning down the heat and taking a utensil down the middle of the pan, effectively slicing it in two to pour over two wraps of dyed cloth. 

“Eating on the road,” he pauses, realizes Techno’s lack of understanding, and rephrases. “Eating while we walk.”

He nods and takes one of the bundles, taking a large bite. It’s _hot_ , warm enough to feel like his tongue is melting off. He coughs it up quickly, tries to swallow around the tender spot. His mouth _hurts._

Phil, for his part, only stands there laughing for a moment before pressing a terracotta bottle into his hands. “Here, here, drink this.”

Techno coughs again before taking a greedy gulp of whatever potion he has in store. It’s thin and cool compared to what he’s used to, easing through his mouth and down his throat easily enough. He pulls back and pours a small amount to investigate the contents onto his hand. It’s clear, slipping right over the skin and falling to the ground too quickly to really investigate the contents.

“Water,” Phil says, smiling. “Not much of that in the Nether, huh, mate?” 

Techno balks at it for only a moment before passing the bottle back to Phil. More things he doesn’t understand, to dwell over later. He looks down at his breakfast before deciding to pocket it for later, after it cools somewhat.

“Okay, ready to go?” Phil reaches to grab his hand, but Techno pulls away again, dodging out of reach. He only blinks and takes it as is. “Alright, but you have to follow,” he gestures him over, kneeling down to pull a dark shape from the bag strapped over his back. 

“Don't even know how you _got_ netherite…” he says, shaking his head. He pulls out a bundle of cloth, unwrapping it slowly to reveal Techno’s sword.

Techno doesn't understand half of what he’s saying, so elects to ignore him in favor of jumping forward to get his hands on it. Phil flinches slightly, eyeing him carefully, but he’s so captivated by the dark shine as he swings the weight of his sword back and forth that he doesn’t worry about it. He tries an experimental swing with his burnt hand, but the muscle pulls awkwardly, the sword dropping from his grip, and he has to duck and slide on the floor to catch it before it falls.

Still useless.

He huffs and switches hands to keep it on his good side as he pulls himself back up.

Phil blinks down at him, with some emotion he can’t name, doesn’t _recognize_ , on his face. Techno looks away, eyes trained on the floor, and tries to choke the bubbling feeling of disappointment.

“Okay,” Phil says, nodding to himself. “Let’s go.”

Phil leads him back outside. In the full daylight, he has to squint to keep up with him. He recognizes the green grass as they pass the boundaries of the property. He’s able to walk open-eyed as they pass through the forest, the leaves coveting the brightest rays so he can actually watch where they’re going. 

Everything’s so bright, he’s a mix of relieved and disappointed when Phil brings them to a door at the bottom of a stone cliff face. He pushes it open, picking up and lighting a small lantern before passing it to Techno. 

“Keep this lit,” he says. 

Techno nods quietly, leaning against the tunnel wall as they follow the stairs lower down. Techno follows close behind as Phil navigates, seeming to know exactly where he wants to go already, smiling when he happens across any ore along the way. It leads out into an open cavern, large enough to not even be entirely lit, the backside of it completely darkened without the grace of torchlight.

“Stay with me,” Phil says. “Keep watch.”

Sure, he can do that. 

Well. As more time passes, he starts to doubt his own abilities.

Techno sits at the edge of the cavern, bored out of his mind. He feels almost like a second bag honestly, watching Phil tear away at the rubble and extract chunks of iron. He finishes his breakfast (much safer when it’s cooled), takes another sip of his drink, then crouches down on the ground to spin his sword around just for the release of _doing_ something.

He drops his head to his knees and starts to doze off, the rhythmic sound of Phil’s pickaxe against rock and the distant sound of some underground stream lulling him to sleep. 

Then he hears the faint dragging of feet. Not Phil’s heavy boots or his own. He jerks up immediately, narrowing in on the noise.

A dark, lumbering shadow of a creature decayed comes shambling out of the darkness. Techno braces himself against the wall in anticipation. When it gets close enough, he lunges, driving his sword through its chest and throwing himself back against the wall to balance back. It topples to the ground but behind it, a smaller one comes sprinting under its legs, obviously aiming for Phil as it leaps forward. Techno sees red for a moment, shoving his body against it to throw off the collision before he can plunge his sword clean through as well.

He pulls off the two corpses, hunched over as his chest heaves from the exertion. His burns ache too, but he’s able to brush off the pain easily enough. He drives the bottom of his heel through their chests, the ribs protesting with a familiar _crunch_ as dark fluid oozes over the rocky floor. Neither of them will be getting up again for at least a moment. 

Phil jumps over to him, cursing wildly. “Techno! _Shit–_ are you okay?”

Techno nods, swaying too much to be able to fight the temptation to lean against Phil’s familiar weight as he regains his balance. 

“Mhm,” he hums, straightening as he stands on his own. 

Phil ghosts his hand over Techno’s shoulder, eyes darting between him and the dead as he inspects him for any wounds. After an uneasy minute, he finally cracks a smile. “You're lethal, mate! Just pulverized those zombies, I hadn’t even blinked and they were both down!”

Techno ducks his head to look down at the mess on the ground, not totally comprehending what Phil’s saying again. 

“You’re a tiny guy, but you’re something else, Techno,” Phil says. “I’m glad we met.”

Techno understands that well enough to know it’s a compliment, which is more than enough to have him looking away at the cloying embarrassment at the kind words.

. . .

He’s getting better, which is a wild notion in its own right. The skin is peeling back, revealing pink scar tissue that’s already healing over. He doesn’t know what this means for him and Phil, though, and tries to hide the fact that he’s using less and less of the pre-prepared burn salve every day.

He’s grown accustomed to following Phil on his errands. Formally, it’s so he can keep watch for any danger, but their neck of the woods (Phil’s words for it) is so remote that there isn’t much to worry about. He hasn’t seen any blazes, ghasts, or the like, so he imagines the monsters are just… not as prevalent here. Save for the green thing outside the portal, so many weeks ago. He hasn’t seen another since, hasn’t felt ready to ask yet. 

Phil’s kind though, explaining everything they come across in simple words. Techno isn’t sure he’s getting better with language, but Phil swears he is and Phil’s never been wrong before, so he takes him at his word.

Today they’re back in the mine again. Techno eyes the darkness, unable to tell if the faintest noises are products of the underground or the monsters lurking out of sight. He lingers for a moment in the open space, watching the shadows dip from the torchlight. 

Phil pats his shoulder, his way of telling Techno to loosen the tension crammed under his skin. 

They go lower than usual today. He recognizes the faint fog when they get deep enough: bedrock’s telltale presence. He doesn’t need Phil’s presence for balance, but presses closer anyway, hand tightening on his sword. 

They’ve stumbled across some lava pools before, always giving them a wide berth, but they’re even more common this deep underground. Nothing that compares to the sea of molten rock in the Nether, but enough to be a hassle to work around. His burns don’t sting around the warmth the way they used to, he’s able to duck around the low-hanging rocks with ease and dodge monsters effortlessly.

He rips his sword through the skeleton’s rib cage, throwing his hand through the gap and smashing the glowing ball of life inside it like glass. Phil comes up behind him, driving his own axe through the one lurking just behind.

“Sorry, lots more monsters with this much darkness,” he says, frowning. “A lot of skeletons too, there might be something down here. Wanna check it out?”

Techno nods, the threshold of his adrenaline starting to trickle down. He’s jumpy and quick, fed up with the slowness he’d been confined to thanks to his injury. Phil cracks a smile and picks up the lantern, nodding him forward. 

He hears the faint sound of fire burning, not quite something natural. It feels similar to the cages in fortresses, things that release blazes en masse. Phil recognizes the sound as well, tensing beside him and pressing against the wall. 

“Spawner,” Phil mutters. He takes his pickaxe from his belt and offers it to Techno. “You destroy it and I'll worry about the monsters.”

Techno nods, taking the heavy weight in his hands and giving an experimental swing. It’ll do. 

Phil counts them off silently, ticking down the seconds with his fingers. At his cue, Techno sprints forward, ducking between legs and ramming his way forward before the skeletons clue in. He spots the glow of the spawner through the open wall of the cobblestone room. Sliding between the stone and channeling the momentum into the swing of the pickaxe, he tears through it without trouble, the iron contorting with the motion. As soon as it's busted, he takes his sword and rips through the web of magic inside. 

Immediately, the skeletons drop to the ground, their strings cut without the source of power maintaining their forms. He jumps backward to dodge between the crumbling forms and thrusts his sword through the monsters that gathered here independently. This is what he’s used to, what he excels in, driving his weapon with the intent to kill instead of lingering in the shadows with aching skin. 

He feels like himself again.

He hears the noise of Phil moving too, the sound of his metal axe digging into rock distinct as he clashes against something behind the wall. He slips between the stone again, ducking his head as he comes out on the other side. 

Phil bounces back on his heels before lunging forward at the green creature ahead. Techno jumps back, recognizing it immediately. The thing outside the portal, the thing that _explodes_.

Phil doesn’t seem bothered by the notion, dealing one heavy blow and ducking away before it can get too close, practically dancing around the creature as it edges on the brink of explosion while dodging the other zombies stumbling after him. He rushes forward one last time, his axe cleaving through the flesh as it dissolves into dust. He brushes his hand against his forehead, pushing back his bucket hat and wiping away sweat before tightening his grip on the axe and digging it into the first unfortunate zombie in his path, making quick work of the rest of them. 

Phil is more than capable in his own right, Techno realizes. It shouldn’t be much of a shock, knowing he lives alone and probably was clearing these little pockets of monsters by _himself_ for years. He almost snorts. They make quite the pair.

His gaze lands on Techno and he grins. “Spawner down?”

Techno nods, holding out the pickaxe for him to take. 

He hooks it back behind his belt, approaching the dim cobblestone room warily. He grabs their lantern, setting it on an inlet in the rock. Techno follows his lead, pushing back to investigate the spoils of their endeavor.

He flips the first chest lid open while Phil goes for the other, digging his hands inside as he roots around for anything of worth. He reaches for an odd, flat black disc but jerks back sharply as a red dust clings to his fingers and _burns._ Phil is at his side in seconds, water bottle in hand and wetting a cloth to run over his hands. Techno stares, unblinking, as he does, only coming back to himself when Phil snaps his fingers.

“Hey, hey, mate, are you still with me?”

The pain still stings a little, but it’s more than bearable. He nods again, feeling past him to pull out the disc again. It’s colored brightly around its center and marked with symmetrical grooves around the entirety. He traces the lines, frowning, and holds it up for Phil to investigate. 

He shakes the red stuff off his hands, brushing off the stinging feeling as it clings around his fingers. Phil frowns and hands him the cloth while he feels up the disc.

“These things are rare,” he explains, frowning. “We could sell it, but…” he shrugs. “They really only have worth if you _know_ which it is. Be a pretty thing to have in the house, I suppose.”

Techno shrugs back, picking up the lantern as the trudge back. Now that he’s finally seeing the tunnel in the full light, he notices a golden glint near the mouth of the cave. 

He shoves the lantern into Phil’s hand, tugging him in the direction of the ore. “Feh!”

Phil turns, looking worried, “Excuse me?”

“Feh,” he tries again, pointing aggressively. “Feh!”

“Are you..?” He blinks once, twice, then has to rub at his eyes. “Oh my god, are you trying to say Phil?”

_Finally._ He drags him over, kicking his heel against the golden deposit. It’s gold, it has to be gold. He didn’t know it was in _both_ worlds, though that makes some sort of sense. He kneels down next to it, gesturing brightly. “Feh!”

“Phil,” he repeats softly, crouching down next to him.

Techno rolls his eyes, knocking his fist to the rock. “Fe-ehl.”

“Yeah,” he says, breathless and smiling wider than ever. “That’s me.”

Techno snorts amusedly then pats the rock again. Phil nods, pulling out his pickaxe and whacking it through the rock to expose the bulk of the vein. He extracts a couple of handfuls, dropping most of it in a sack at his side but holds out a handful to Techno. He takes the unrefined lump, dusting it off as he picks it up. It's cold to the touch, nowhere as near as molten as the stuff from his world. He pops it into his mouth anyway, gnawing his teeth on the hard edges. 

“Ah,” Phil says, his eyes round and white like his dinner plates. “Mate, I…”

Techno makes a noise, confused, and drops the gold into his fist to offer back to him. 

Phil’s face wrinkles in disgust and waves him off. “No. It’s… no thank you. Not my scene.”

Techno shrugs, because his loss, really, following him out of the mine and teething on his gold as they begin the walk home. The glint reminds him of Phil’s weird helmet, back when they met for the first time. He tugs at Phil’s cloak to get his attention then gestures to his gold and draws a line to his head, repeating the motion a few times until he seems to get it.

“The crown?” He asks, puzzled. 

Techno shrugs, no clue what the title means.

Phil narrows his eyes in concentration, taking his pack and swinging it around to rest over his stomach as they walk, he roots through the bottom until he comes back up with the object. Techno recognizes it immediately. It’s the same shoddily melted gold helmet. Closer up, it’s even more obvious it can’t function as anything protective.

“That’s a crown,” Phil explains, slowly sounding out the word again. “Crown.”

Now that he's started talking, he can't dismiss the urge to stay silent anymore. So he nods. “Cr-ow-n.”

“Yeah!” Phil practically beams. “Got it in one! Here–”

He plants it on Techno’s head, brushing the hair out of his eyes so it sits right. Techno blinks confusedly but doesn’t fight it, tilting his head back so it stays balanced correctly.

“Practically royalty,” Phil says, seemingly satisfied with his work.

He smiles quietly to himself, then turns his head curiously. “Why..?”

“Why what?” Phil asks.

“Wh’ do you have–” He points to the crown and pats the side of the bag. “There.”

“Why do I keep it in here?” Phil interprets. Techno nods. Phil looks away then, and when he speaks again, it’s careful and measured in a way that can only come from preparation, “For emergencies,” 

“E-mer-gen-cee?” Techno tries, not quite sure what it means. Phil seems pleased that he can mimic the sound well enough though.

“When something bad happens very quickly. Something you can’t control,” he explains. 

He hums a low note of comprehension. That takes him to his next question. When does he need something like _this?_

“When I go to the Nether,” Phil says after a moment, uncharacteristically short. But he folds quickly under Techno’s curious gaze. “Piglins don't attack when you're wearing gold.”

“Why?” Techno repeats.

Phil shrugs. “Why don’t they attack? You probably know better than me–”

“E-mer-gen-cee trip,” he sounds out slowly. “Why?”

He frowns, turning away. “In case you, well…” he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re… Let’s just go home.”

“Home,” Techno echoes quietly, nodding his head as he trails after him.

. . .

“Yeah, it sets and rises in the same spot every day,” Phil’s halfway through another explanation, just a few days later, placing two full plates on the kitchen table. 

“Every day?” Techno echoes, trying to wrap his head around that. When he thinks about it– he thinks he’s right. The light from the windows travels the same angular path every morning. “Moon too?”

“Moon too,” he confirms, then blinks for a moment and pushes back the curtain on the window over the stove. “Hey, you’re able to stand outside in the day now, right?”

Techno nods.

“Nothing hurts?” Phil asks, eyes watching for any hesitation. 

“Mhm,” he hums, taking a bite of his dinner. 

His shoulders ease and he smiles. “Then we can watch the sunset. Won’t be too bright if you don’t look _directly_ at it. Lots of pretty colors.”

It sounds nice enough, so he shrugs, nodding. They’re usually well on their way home before nightfall, and by then he’s tired enough to drop asleep as soon as he hits a cushion. And when they only emerge from the caves much later, the sky is already sunken into darkness. By then, he’s more interested in dodging monsters than looking up. 

Once they’re done eating, Phil takes his plate to leave in the sink to wash later. Techno waits by the door until he’s ready, following quietly as Phil gently rearranges his potted garden to clear a large enough space for them both on the edge of the porch.

Techno drops beside him, kicking his feet over the empty space between the wood and the ground as the wind rolls over the field. The breeze toys with his hair, blowing it straight into his eyes. He lets out an annoyed huff, not bothering to fix it when the wind doesn’t let up.

Phil smiles at his trouble, clearly amused. He holds up a hand and dips back inside for a moment, calling over his shoulder, “Hold on! I think I have a hair tie.”

He pops back out with a dark band on his wrist. He offers it to Techno, which… he isn’t sure what he’s trying to say, or get him to do. He gathers his hair in a fist and loops the band over it, but it’s too loose, falling quickly and getting swept away again. 

“Want me too..?” Phil holds out a hand.

Techno, blushing, embarrassed, hands the hair tie back and certainly does _not_ lean into Phil’s touch as he combs his hands through his hair.

“Lucky,” he says. “Only _just_ long enough to pull back. Grow it out some more and we– You can braid it.”

Techno frowns. He doesn’t know what a braid _is_ , much less how to make one. 

Phil looks back at the sky. The sun is cresting under the treeline, bathing the exposed earth in golden light as it filters through the trees. The sky blurs in color, even more bright than the flowers around them. But it’s hard to focus on it, with Phil’s hands on his head as he works his hands through the tangles. 

“I think you can go back home now,” Phil says, quiet and hushed like some sort of confession. “If you want. I won’t stop you, you’re recovered enough.”

The first shock, to Techno, is the fact that he hadn't even considered leaving. Or that he can’t remember the last time he _had._ The world stopped here, at the end of Phil’s porch with the sun setting and the moon rising in turn. 

Then Techno has to weigh his options. Staying or going. A part of him thrives in his homeland, the endless heat, the bloody path that ends with him victorious. But alone. Always watching his back. The notion of having a _home_ to return to is too alluring, having companionship too tempting. He likes it here, as odd as it is to admit it. He likes the weird food, he likes the cramped house, he likes the sky that changes and twists with the hours passing.

He likes Phil.

“No. Can I…” he trails off, his voice hoarse. He coughs, clearing his throat the best he can as he tries to enunciate the right consonants. “Stay. ‘ll stay.”

Phil smiles so brightly, he almost feels like he’s going to melt. “Yeah, _yeah_! Of course you can! I’ll… We’ll have to make you a room in the house. Somewhere better to sleep, instead of the living room floor. What wood do you think? There’s a birch forest not far from here–”

Techno listens to him quietly, a small smile of his own bubbling up. He closes his eyes and leans his head against Phil’s shoulder as he talks animatedly about construction plans. And as sleep drags at his eyelids, he hears Phil trail off but his hand still steadily brushing his hair back. 

**Author's Note:**

> okay i once again wrote all of this in basically three days. spirit of the pig man possessed me and held me at gunpoint and suddenly i had 5k of this shit. bitches gay that's all i can say
> 
> bitches ALSO thrives off feedback, so if you enjoyed, please comment and kudos!! <3


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